A Thousand Different Ways
by hazel-3017
Summary: Payson Keeler was of the firm belief that she was never going to fall in love. She'd trusted men before and it had only gotten her hurt. She had her family and her son; she didn't need a man and she was fine with that. Sasha Belov was not.
1. No Light, No Light

**Disclaimer: I do not hold the right to any of the original characters within the Make It or Break It universe. I do not make any money out of this, etc.**

**Warning: Mention of rape and violence. Alternate universe.**

* * *

**Prologue: No Light, No Light**

_31 July 2007_

There is a moment.

It occurs suddenly when your life is slowly fading and you _know_ you are dying. You know that the hands clamped down around your neck, squeezing, contracting, preventing you from drawing precious air, _strangling_ you, you know it is killing you—even as the thought filter through your mind; brief, mindless, absently.

And than it happens. The moment. _A _moment. Of clarity? Retrospection? Regret, perhaps? They say when you live through a near death experience that your life flashes before your eyes. For Payson, it is not so. Perhaps it is because she knows she is dying. She knows this isn't just a _near_ death experience. No, this is real. There is a man above her prone form and he _is_ killing her.

He is a man Payson had trusted. A man Payson had believed to have had her best interest at heart. A man she had _liked and respected. _Now, he is the man that had raped her only minutes before—and Payson had fought back. She really had. Screaming and clawing, kicking, biting, doing anything and everything to just get him _off of her._ But she is too weak and he too strong, and no one has heard her desperate cries for help. So now here she lays in the middle of the gym floor; beaten and bruised—her life fading away. She doesn't move except for her left foot which won't stop twitching, and her arms does not have the strength to grab at the hands around her throat anymore. They lie prone and limp at her side, like her, useless. A deadweight. And that's when it happens.

The moment.

Her moment.

There are flashes before her eyes, yes, but not of the life she has lived. There are no past regrets, no what-ifs or memories of a happier time. What she sees are the things she will never get to experience. Payson sees the future that will no longer be. A life un-lived. Her life. She sees herself on top of the podium at the 2012 Olympics; a champion of her chosen sport. She sees herself finishing college, finding a man and falling in love. She sees _children._ Children she just knows she was meant to have, but now are just lives that will never be. They will never exist because _she _is losing her own existence. Payson mourns their loss as much as the loss of her own life. Her grief is deep.

She can feel it happening. Her body is already heavy with it. Her lungs burns from the lack of oxygen. She is so, so tired, and all she wants to do is close her eyes and let go. But she cannot. Somehow her eyes are wide open and she is staring into his eyes, letting him see the betrayal of his actions, the hatred that she feels for him now. And still, she is just so very, very tired. It feels as if it has been hours, but really, it can't have been more than seconds since his hands closed around her neck.

How long does it take to strangle someone? How much pressure must you put on the throat for it to be seconds and not minutes before their death? How hard must a person squeeze? Payson wants for it to be over. She knows she's giving up. Giving in. But she is _tired._ And it _hurts_ so, so much. Death by strangulation is a painful way to die. There are going to be bruises on her throat. Hand shaped bruises of a man she thought she knew. And all Payson can think about is that she doesn't want her parents to see that. She doesn't want her mom and dad to know that she suffered. That hers was a painful death. The thought makes her sad. Just thinking about her parents—and by default; Becca, and her friends too—makes her too sad, so she gathers what little coherence she has left and turns her attention towards where she is.

The gym.

Her sanctuary.

And isn't that ironic. The one place she feels safest in the world. The place where she feels the most in control. Now, it will be the place of her death. Payson has always privately thought she hadn't really lived before she discovered gymnastics. She had only been five years old when she decided gymnastics would be her life. Her whole life. It is only fitting then, she supposes, that she will die by it too. She has come full circle.

She wonders what they will say of her. Of the girl who was supposed to be the brightest new star in gymnastics. Maybe it will be "Payson Keeler, fourteen years old. Lived and breathed gymnastics." Or "Payson Keeler, fourteen years old. Raped and murdered by her gymnastics coach."

She supposes it doesn't matter one way or the other. She will never know anyway, because Payson can feel her mind getting all drowsy and slow now. She is starting to lose consciousness. And finally, _finally_, her eyes slide shut, and her foot no longer twitches.

She knows no more.

**End of Prologue**


	2. The Lightning Strike

**Warnings: Mention of rape and violence. Alternate universe.**

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**Chapter One: The Lightning Strike**

_22 June 2009_

She couldn't breath. There were hands clutching at her throat. Large, cruel and unforgiving hands. Familiar. Their intent to kill all to recognisable to her. And she couldn't breath. She _couldn't _breath. She was going to die. But she didn't want to. She didn't want her life to end. She wasn't going to give in this time. She wasn't. She opened her mouth to scream, but knew there would be no sound. If only she could scream. If only someone would hear her. If only they could save her. Was she crying for someone to help her? She must be—she could hear crying. But it couldn't be her. The hands squeezing her fragile neck were pressing against her vocal cords; she couldn't make a sound. But she could hear crying. Someone was crying. Someone...

"Payson!"

Who was crying? She didn't understand where the sound was coming from.

"Payson, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Why wouldn't the crying stop?

"Payson! Honey, you have to wake up."

It sounded...like a baby?

"Payson, wake up, right now. Alex needs you. Do you hear me? Payson!"

Alex...

Alex was her son. Her beautiful baby boy. Her son was crying!

"Wha? Mom?"

Kim sighed in relief. "Yes, it's me, sweetie. You were screaming, Payson. Alex heard and woke up. He's crying for you."

Payson rubbed at her eyes, trying desperately to gather her senses around her. There were no hands strangling her, and she could breath easily now. And then she registered it, the sound of her baby crying.

"Alex," she gasped out, quickly scrambling out of her bed and hurrying towards the crib against the far wall of her small room. "Oh, baby, Momma is so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She reached down into the crib, her little boy already on his feet, clutching at the railings with his tiny hands. There were large, fat drops of tears running down his sweet chubby cheeks, and Payson's heart broke like it always did when she saw her baby cry.

She gathered him into her arms and rocked him gently, humming an old lullaby softly into his hair. Alex was quick to quiet down and Payson pressed a gentle kiss to his head as he rested his cheek against her shoulder, exhausted from all the crying.

"Payson," Kim whispered, "Are you okay?"

Payson looked away from her mother's concerned eyes. She just couldn't bear to bring up old wounds tonight. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a nightmare. That's all." Payson chanced a look back at her mother. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Kim was silent for a moment as she studied her daughter and grandson. Finally, she sighed. "Don't worry about it. You should get some sleep, okay? We need to be at the Rock at eight in the morning," she said, getting up from her place at Payson's bed, heading towards the door.

She hesitated before exiting the room. "Payson," she started out. "If you want to talk about it...Well, I'm here for you if you need me."

Payson tightened her arms around her son protectively, images of the child's conception flashing briefly through her mind. No, she thought. She didn't want to talk about it.

"I know. Thanks, Mom."

Kim left them alone after giving her one last look, and Payson sighed, grateful she wouldn't have to drag up a part of her past that she would really just like to forget. Alex whimpered lightly and Payson gently hushed him, moving over to the rocking chair in the corner of her room, hoping they'd both get some sleep.

Before she realised it, her eyes were closed.

* * *

About three hours later, Payson was still in the rocking chair, her son snoring softly against her chest while she dozed lightly. Kim popped her head inside the door to wake her, and from then it was a whirlwind of activities before they were all clothed and fed, heading towards the Rock.

"Crap," Kim groaned as her coffee cup fell to the ground when she pried open the stubborn car door.

"Mom! Language!" Payson said pointedly, fiddling with the straps of Alex's car seat.

"Go with Becca, Payson, this is not a day for you to be late. I'll take care of Alex."

Payson sighed. "Fine," she mumbled. "I can never get these stupid straps to work anyway. Hey, baby, Momma is gonna head in before you, okay, and Grandma is going to take care of you," Payson said, bending down to kiss Alex on the cheek. She was rewarded with a big grin and a "Bye, bye, Momma."

Letting her younger sister tear her away from the car, Payson was quick to single out her friends when they finally entered the gym. "I'm gonna go stretch out. You should too, Becca." She barely got a response as Becca was distracted by her own friends. Shaking her head, Payson headed towards the mats.

"Hey guys," she mumbled, dropping down next to her teammates, joining them in their stretching regiment.

"Hey. You ready for today? It'll be our last practice before tryouts for Nationals tomorrow. And well...If you're going to make a comeback—"

"Yes, thank you, Lauren," Payson cut the other girl off before she could spew her usual 'I'm pretending to care, but I'm really psyching you out' crap. "Don't worry. I've been ready for months."

"If you say so," Lauren singsonged.

"Urgh, why don't you just do us all a favour, Tanner, and shut the hell up," Jordan Randall snapped at Lauren, reminding Payson once again why they were best friends. Lauren bristled. "No one asked you, Randall—"

"Guys," Kaylie interrupted tiredly. "Really? Do we have to do this _every _morning?"

As the three girls fell into the conversation that they _did,_ in fact, have (at least a variation of it) every morning, Payson allowed herself to fall into the zone, visualising all the routines she would be running through that day in preparation for the next day's Trials.

Despite Lauren's bratty attitude, she _was _right. Tomorrow _would_ be a big deal for Payson. It was the beginning of her comeback. For more than a year she had been excluded from competitions, either by choice or necessity. Instead, she had spent her time in practice. Spending hours and hours of gruelling training, remodelling her body back into shape after giving birth to her son. She would never again be the gymnast she had started out as; all power and strength—her body had changed to much during her pregnancy for that too be possible—but Payson had worked hard to reach the level of skill she was at now. She'd sacrificed blood and sweat and tears. And time. It was hard spending so much time away from her little boy, and Payson was incredibly grateful that the Rock advocated such strong parental involvement in the club. It allowed her mother to oversee practice from the parent's viewing area, Alex on her lap.

Looking over at the viewing area in question, Payson was relieved to see her son bouncing happily up and down on Kim's knee, several of the other Rock mothers cooing at him. It settled her nerves to know exactly where her child was, and Payson marvelled, not for the first time, how someone so little could be a person's entire world.

Before, it had been gymnastics. Everything Payson was, was tied up into the world of gymnastics. It was all she knew. All she cared about. And it had showed. Payson didn't just love the sport; she was good at it too. Extremely good. She had been the newest hit of the junior elites, a bright rising star. The National all-around bronze medalist in 2006, working her way back from the break she'd taken in 2005 due to her ACL injury after her gold in 2004. And she was back to repeat her victory as the all-around gold medalist in 2007.

And then it happened; the summer after the 2007 National Championship.

Payson largely divided her life into two separate categories: Before summer 2007, and after summer 2007.

She had just moved to Boulder from Minnesota that very same year—Marty Walsh's interest in her talent being enough for Payson to have convinced her parents that a move to Colorado was not only the best option for their family, but an absolute must. She had been on top of the world, still on a high from being ranked the top junior elite in the U.S., when Kaylie Cruz badgered her into attending Ray Keegan's gymnastics camp in Florida with Lauren and herself. It would be fun, she had claimed. Would let them relax from all that serious training for a few weeks and just enjoy gymnastics for the sake of it. Like they had when they were little.

Payson's mother had encouraged her to go. They'd only been in Boulder for a few months and Kim thought it would be a good bonding experience for the then top three girls at the Rock. Payson had eventually caved and decided to go. It was, without a doubt, the worst and the best decision Payson had ever made.

Ray Keegan, the man who was supposed to be their coach and a man they could trust, had turned out to be a child molester. For years he had been touching the girls attending his camp in intimate places, manipulating them and convincing them that they wanted it. That they wanted him. That they were the once who asked for it. That they seduced _him. _Payson had been fresh meat. She fit his criteria perfectly. Payson was beautiful, even at fourteen, and she'd been dedicated, willing to put in extra hours in the gym, staying late in order to perfect her new moves.

Keegan had started to stay late with her, and after only a few days had made his advances. But Payson was different. She was not like the other girls. She would not let herself be taken advantage of, and the second Keegan's hand had strayed into inappropriate places from the spot on her body where he'd been correcting her stance, Payson had pulled away, demanding what the hell he thought he was doing.

It had gone downhill from there.

That night, Payson had been beaten and raped. She would have been murdered too. Had honestly believed that there was no chance of her survival.

And yet, somehow, four days later, she had opened her eyes from the coma she had slipped into, her body having shut down instinctively after the trauma she'd suffered.

Later, Payson had been told that they hadn't known if she would ever wake from the coma; the reduced flow of oxygen to her brain could have created all kinds of serious and permanent repercussions.

But Payson had been lucky.

That was what the doctors and the police kept telling her. That she had been lucky. She survived a brutal rape, and apparently her death would have been certain if only Keegan had kept the pressure on her throat for just a few more seconds.

But no, Payson had gotten _lucky_.

Lucky enough that one of the gymnastic coaches, McIntire, had forgotten his cell phone that day and headed back to the gym to retrieve it. Lucky enough that he'd kept his cool and gotten Keegan off of her and knocked him unconscious. Lucky enough that McIntire had managed to breath life into her lungs and called an ambulance.

Lucky enough to survive.

Payson had not felt lucky.

Even as she learned that there were other girls Keegan had hurt, that she was not 'alone', and that Keegan was on trial for multiple sexual offences against as many as fourteen girls—including Payson. At the conclusion of his trials, Keegan was sentenced to life imprisonment with no chance of parole, the deciding factor of the Jury's decision being the attempted murder of Payson.

The trial had been highly publicised, swarming with media and N.G.O. officials. They had tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but it had proven to be a largely futile attempt. The whole of the U.S. was in shock, not to mention the gymnastics world. At fourteen, Payson had already made a name for herself within her chosen field. She was well known by the press and her peers. And Keegan...Well, Keegan had been a very respected gymnastics coach. Beloved, even. Everyone was reeling from the shock of his actions. Everyone felt betrayed.

And everyone had something to say. Except for Payson. Payson would not speak of it.

It didn't matter that some of Keegan's other victims came to visit her in the hospital in a show of support. It didn't matter that Jordan Randall (who had quite possibly—with the exception of Payson—been the one to suffer the most at Keegan's hands) reached out to her. It didn't matter that her parents were as supportive of her as possible and claimed to understand her pain.

None of that mattered, because no matter what they said, and what they claimed; no one understood. No one.

So Payson didn't talk about it. She didn't think about it. She denied it even happened.

What she did do was focus on her gymnastics. She threw herself into the sport the moment she was given a clean bill of health, working long hours, desperate to fill her days with something to do. Something that would keep her busy. Something that would tire her out to the point where she passed out from exhaustion. Because if she was passed out; she couldn't dream. Would have no nightmares or reminder of the day she got _lucky._

Everyone kept saying she was pushing herself too hard. They kept saying she would run herself to the ground, that what she was doing wasn't healthy. Kept waiting for her to reach her breaking point. Privately, Payson kept waiting for it too.

Her breaking point turned out to be the 2007 Junior Pan American Games, only two months later. She'd defied the expectations of an entire world when she showed up in Rio—no one had expected her back in the game so soon after her 'tragedy'. She proved them wrong though; all those who thought she wasn't ready, who thought it was too soon, because Payson was kicking ass, major ass. And then, it happened. Right in the middle of her bars routine her stomach seized up and she lost her grip, crashing into the mats below her. She'd been in pain for days, but hadn't said anything. Didn't want to risk being taken off the team and away from the only thing holding her together. But her will was stronger than her body, and the one thing she had been in complete control over from the tender age of five had failed her.

Personally, Payson didn't remember much of the events after her fall. She knew she had been rushed to the nearest hospital and that the doctors had quickly reached a prognosis. She was pregnant. Despite all odds, she, Payson Keeler, the fourteen year old reigning junior elite champion was having her rapist's baby.

That's how she'd thought of it. Her rapist's child. Never hers.

Then the press found out. All it took was for one single conversation between her coach and her parents discussing 'options' to be overheard by a story-hungry journalist. Once again, Payson's life was spread out for the media to dissect. Once again, everyone had something to say.

This time, Payson did too.

She wanted nothing to do with the child growing inside of her. Wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. She firmly believed it would ruin her career and her hard-earned body. If she hadn't had such a great support system around her, she probably would have terminated the pregnancy then and there. But no one, not her coach, not her doctors, and not even her parents, would let her make the decision without seriously considering _all _her options. They made sure she understood the consequences of each possible alternative and enrolled her in counselling so she could have an objective outsider to discuss her feelings and thoughts with. Her parents had always made sure she knew that whatever choice she made, it was hers to make, and that they would stand by her, no matter what. And though she hadn't shown it in those days, Payson would be forever tankful for them and their support. Truly, she couldn't have asked for better parents.

Because no one would let her do what she had wanted immediately, and waited until she truly realised that she had to live with her decision and understood how that decision might affect her, Payson pulled away from the media limelight as much as they'd let her and retreated to Colorado.

And somewhere along the way in between sessions with her therapist, talks with other rape victims (with or without the added complication of a pregnancy), and doctor's appointments—one of which included the sound of the baby's heartbeat—without Payson even realising it, the life growing inside of her had changed from being her rapist's child to being unequivocally _hers._ It was her child. Hers to protect and love. Deciding to keep the baby was perhaps the hardest decision she'd ever make, not least of all because it truly stopped her from doing what she loved the most in the world, a love not even Keegan had managed to taint for her.

So Payson chose her child and gave birth to a baby boy six months after they discovered her pregnancy. And still after that, she had to wait for the go ahead to practice gymnastics again. But when she got it...when she could finally, finally turn her attention back to her true love without the risk of damaging herself or her son, Payson began training. And now, more than a year later, Payson was ready. She was back. And she _would _be making her mark on gymnastics history based on her talent and _not_ her all too famous past.

Payson was brought back to the present by Lauren's indignant, "Who the hell is that? What the hell is that girl wearing?"

"Here we go," Jordan muttered from Payson's left, and they caught each others eyes, sharing an exasperated look over Lauren's bitching. Payson turned her attention towards the girl who obviously had Lauren rattled enough to send her into full 'spoilt princess' mode. Payson had to admit, she executed a very decent two and a half front punch. The girl definitely had talent, but she looked raw.

"What are we going to do with her?" Lauren demanded of them later in the bathroom, after Marty had introduced the new girl as Emily Kmetko. Straightening her ponytail, Payson decided she was not getting involved with this. "That girl can knock any one of us out of the top three," Lauren continued, looking more nervous than she really should be over a new girl they didn't even know anything about. Besides, Payson thought a little meanly to herself, if Lauren just focused her attention on gymnastics instead of everything else, she wouldn't have to be worried about losing her spot in the top three.

Jordan wisely ignored their teammate's ravings, but Kaylie at least made an attempt to appease her. "You can't waste your mental energy thinking about anyone else, Lo. It will kill you."

Lauren merely rolled her eyes at this, clearly not convinced. Payson was impressed, though. It was actually sound advice and sounded like something she would have said herself.

"That's easy for you to say. You just smile and flip your hair and you pull it out of your ass. And Randall's already number one. And you, Payson—"

"And I am not even _in _the top three. I haven't been for years and you don't see me freaking out. Now excuse me, I'd like to go spend a few seconds with my son before break is up."

"I'll come with you," Jordan said quickly, looking eager to get out of the bathroom and far away from what now looked to be a scheming Lauren Tanner. Nothing good ever came of a scheming Lauren Tanner. This had been proven time and again, and Payson was sure it would end up like every other crazy plan of hers this time too; in disaster.

"Hey, you okay?" Jordan murmured as they headed across the gym. "You looked a little pale this morning."

Payson sighed. "I'm fine." She waited a beat, and then, "I had a nightmare about _him_ last night. I woke up Alex. I was screaming." If Jordan had been anybody else, Payson would never have admitted that fact. But Jordan understood what she'd been through, if not all of it, than a significant part at least.

"You wanna talk about it, later? I could have dinner at your place."

Payson looked at her friend. "Weren't you guys supposed to have a 'Cruz Family Dinner' tonight?" she questioned, making quotation marks at 'Cruz Family Dinner'. Jordan groaned in frustration at the reminder. "Yeah, I totally forgot. Damn."

Payson chuckled lightly. Jordan sounded truly pained at the thought of spending an entire dinner with all members of her foster family. "Oh, come on. It can't be that bad," Payson said, knowing that a large part of Jordan's bluster was played up. Jordan would be forever grateful to the Cruz family. They had petitioned to take her in as a foster child after the findings of the Keegan Trials. Kaylie had known Jordan through camp for years, and when it became apparent that Jordan's current foster family was less than ideal, Kaylie had gone to her parents. Jordan had been with them ever since.

Jordan shot her a look of disbelief. "Have _you _tried to eat anything Ronnie cooks? No, you haven't. So you don't get to comment."

Payson laughed fully at that. "That bad, huh?"

"Well, let's just say that last week, Kaylie ended up spending most of the night in the bathroom."

"Ew," Payson laughed, wrinkling her nose. "TMI, Jordan. I really didn't need to know that."

Jordan sent her a smug look. "Hey, you asked," she pointed out before her attention focused solely on the toddler wobbling towards them in a run. Kim had seen them heading towards the viewing area and had set her squirming grandson down on the floor, excited to see his momma.

"Hey, little man," Jordan exclaimed, opening her arms wide for the little boy to run into. "Don't you look fine today." She closed her hands around Alex's small body, lifting him high into the air, laughing at his delighted giggles.

Payson shook her head at the sight. Jordan did it every time she held Alex. She claimed it was to establish and develop an affinity for heights, so that when Alex inevitably followed in his mother's footsteps, he would rock the rings.

"Stop hogging my son, Jordan," Payson teased as she reached out her hands to pluck Alex from Jordan's arms. The little boy immediately leaned his body towards her eagerly, crying out, "Momma, Momma, Momma."

"Hey, baby, did you miss Momma, hm? Have you been a good boy for Grandma?"

Payson and Jordan spent a few minutes with Alex before Marty called them back into practice, and Payson spent the rest of the day ignoring Lauren and her plan of 'freezing out' the new girl, refining her routines for the next day and still managing to exchange a few words with the new girl in question, after which Payson decided she wasn't half bad.

Time flew by quickly and before she knew it she was back in the car, headed home for the day. She was happily fussing over Alex in the backseat when she heard Becca ask their mom, "When Payson makes a million dollars on Wheaties or whatever, can we get a new car?"

"I suppose that's up to Payson," Kim answered, turning to look at Becca, winking at her conspiratorially. They both knew Payson didn't like to think further into the future than her next practice or competition.

"Hey, can we please not talk about endorsements right now? I'm not even a favourite for this year's Nationals. And you heard Marty earlier today, Becca, the top three goes as our first flight, and I'm not in it."

Becca turned around in her seat and looked at Payson incredulously. "Are you kidding? Everybody knows you're the best in the gym, at least unofficially. And Kelly Parker won Nationals last year with a double back dismount on uneven bars—I happen to know for a fact you can do a triple."

Payson scowled. "Becca, you're not the best unless you're officially the best," she responded before her brows furrowed in confusion. "And how do you know about the triple back dismount?"

"Wait," Kim interrupted. "That's true? That's three rotations, right—have anyone done that in competition before?"

"Yes, it's true," Payson sighed. "And yes, it has been landed in competition. It's called a Magana, Mom, after Brenda Magana. It's a rare skill, though, the most difficult dismount on bars."

"And you can do one?" Kim asked, brows raised as she pulled the car into the driveway outside their small house. "Does Marty know?"

"Yes, I can do one, and no, Marty doesn't know," Payson responded, getting Alex out of his car seat before walking into the house. "And Becca, you didn't answer my question; how did you know?" she asked again. She had started working on the triple back dismount after Marty had refused to work on it with her, claiming it was an _unrealistic _move for her. Payson—never one to let anyone stay in the way of what she wanted—had enlisted the help of Jason, one of the assistant coaches at the Rock, swearing him (bullying him, really) into secrecy as they worked on the move. Payson wasn't stupid enough to practise such a difficult skill-set without anyone to spot her. That had potential danger written all over it. She could just picture herself falling and really messing up her body.

Payson had talked Jordan into learning the move with her, unwilling to spend so many hours alone with a man despite seeing him almost daily. She could trust Jason in a room filled with other people, but there were very few men she trusted to be completely alone with. Two years since her rape and near death and the only men she felt comfortable being around on her own were her father and her head coach. The dismount had been slowly coming along, Jordan and Payson spending months to complete it, taking longer than Payson would have done before 2007. Back then she'd had no problems staying late every evening until she could land whatever move she was working on consistently. But now she had Alex, and she didn't like spending too much time away from him. Still, she knew it was necessary at times. Her career was time limited, and if she wanted to be the best...

Becca looked a little sheepish as she trailed after her sister and nephew into the kitchen, watching as Payson placed Alex in his highchair. "I overheard you talking to Jordan on the phone about how you guys had finally landed it, and obviously you wouldn't make up a conversation like that, so it must be true."

"Becca!" Kim admonished her youngest, frowning disapprovingly at her. "You know better than to listen in on other people's conversations." She pulled out ingredients from the fridge, setting about preparing dinner and smiled, pleased, when her daughters joined in without her having to encourage them. She was proud of how close her family was. Of how far they had come after everything they'd been through. There had been days when it had felt as if their whole world was coming to an end, and for Payson to keep Alex, despite how much Kim adored her grandchild, it had been anything but easy—especially not with the media attention and the general nationwide interest in Payson and her rape generated pregnancy. They still had reporters and paparazzi showing up periodically, but Payson was nothing if not brave and honest, and had eventually after much thought decided to be very open about her situation, hoping it would help others in similar situations.

She had released a statement in response to the backlash of her decision to keep her baby, a necessity when it started to get out of hand. She had been very mature about it, and in her press release stated very plainly that whatever choice she made; she couldn't please everyone, but that to keep her child was _her_ decision. One she had made alone, and one that was supported by her family. Payson had been sure to include that she realised her choice was not one that would necessarily be best for other victims of rape, and that she wasn't advocating one option or the other, but that she was the one who ultimately had to live with her decision and she had done what was right for her. Lastly, she had thanked people for their support, asked them to respect her choice and wish to keep her child's life as normal as possible, away from the spotlight.

While the last one had proven to be impossible (there was to much interest around Payson for it not to translate into her child as well), the media had been impressed by the grace and maturity of which the young mother had handled her difficult situation and as a result (for the most part) kept a relatively respectful distance. The Keeler family still had to accept that random pictures of them appeared in different magazines at times, especially shots of Payson. Because of her celebrity and outspokenness, Payson had become a huge inspiration for both rape victims and teen mothers, getting dozens of letters every week.

And hate mail.

Kim sighed as she thought about _those_ letters. They were far less and longer in between than the fan mail, but people still wrote to say that Alex's very existence was an abomination, that letting the son of a rapist, a child molester, and a would-be murderer into the world was continuing the cycle.

Payson burned those letters.

Looking over at her oldest daughter, seeing her joke around with Becca, Kim knew that even with everything that had happened, they were all better off for it. Payson had loosened up considerably from the intense, driven fourteen-going-on-thirty-year-old she had been. Now she was sixteen and the mother of a one-year-old, still going on thirty, but taking more time to spend with her family and friends, having realised that gymnastics, despite her deep love for the sport, wasn't everything.

"Hey, anybody home?"

The Keeler women smiled at each other. "In the kitchen!" they chorused together, descending into giggles at their own silliness.

Mark appeared in the doorway, leaning against it as he took in his family. "You guys look happy today. Any particular reason?"

Becca giggled. "Yeah, Payson's gonna become a millionaire and buy us a new car."

"Really?" Mark asked, looking over at Payson. He watched her roll her eyes at her younger sister and suspected there was a story behind that statement. "And what is wrong with our car?" he questioned, wandering over to his wife, giving her a firm kiss. Kim smiled up at him lovingly, and they both ignored their daughters making gagging noises in the background.

"Please, Dad," Becca said, walking over to Alex and lifted him into her arms, laughing as her nephew reached out to grab her nose. "That old Volvo won't hang on for much longer."

"What?" Mark protested. "It is not that bad," he insisted, but it was obvious none of his girls agreed. "You agree with Grandpa, don't you, Alex?" Becca stuck out her tongue at him, but she let him take the boy from her arms when he walked over to them. "It's only us two, Alex. We men gotta stick together."

"Oh no," Payson said as they sat down around the table, fastening a bib around Alex's neck—she loved her son dearly, but he had yet to discover the science of putting his food on the _inside_ of his mouth. "I spent seventy-one hours in labour with this one; he doesn't _ever _get to disagree with me," Payson claimed, smiling smugly at her dad.

Kim's eyebrows shot up at that. "So by that logic, you don't ever get to disagree with me. That's what you're saying, right?" She exchanged a look with her husband, suppressing a laugh when he winked at her.

Payson blinked. She hadn't considered that. "Eh, no. That only counts with Becca. I've experienced the pains of labour; I'm exempt from the rule."

Kim and Mark laughed while Becca hissed out a scandalised, "Pay!" She turned to her parents, looking slightly panicked. "Let's not use that rule, Alex can agree with Dad!"

"Alex!"

They turned to look at the little boy, face covered in tomato sauce, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"That's right, baby, you're Alex," Payson laughed. "And who am I?" she questioned gently, grinning when she was awarded with a, "Momma!"

Payson didn't think she could ever be happier than she was right at that moment. Finally, after so long, everything felt right again. She still had issues; she was a teenage mom with an active athletic career, trusting men was still hard for her (strangers especially), and she would probably always struggle with her body image—but she was happy.

* * *

_24 June 2009_

Two days later, Payson was less than pleased. In fact, Payson was furious. She hadn't felt so angry in a long time. Just the day before everything had been perfect. Payson had shined at the Nationals Trials, officially proving what Becca had already stated; she was the best gymnast at the Rock. Scoring first place in the top three, Payson had won ahead of Jordan by a little less than two points (without the use of her triple back dismount—a move Jordan had used instead), and Kaylie by four.

In a surprise twist, the new girl, Emily Kmetko, had settled in fourth place, almost three points ahead of Lauren, who'd had an off-day and fell of her best apparatus; the beam.

And now, Lauren, the brat that she was, had gone whining to her father about having dropped from her third place to fifth. A drop she'd found unacceptable, and in revenge was ruining everything for everyone else.

Payson felt her rage bubble over as she watched Steve Tanner walk out of the gym, carrying with him files that apparently belonged to Marty. Her coach—who'd quit on them in favour of _Denver._

"Hey! Wait a minute, wait a damn minute!"

"Payson—" her dad tried to placate her, but Payson was on a roll. "I did everything right. Everything! And now my coach just leaves? Now?"

"Pay, it's gonna be okay," Kim tried, walking over to her with Alex in her arms. The little boy was tense, clearly having picked up on his mother's anger.

"No, it's not okay, Mom! What the hell is happening? I did everything _right!_" Payson exclaimed, shrugging off her father's hand on her shoulder as she automatically reached for her son, taking comfort in his presence. She looked up when she heard Lauren—that traitor!—speak to Emily.

"Congratulations, Emily," she said condescendingly. "One lucky day, and you blew our gym to pieces. I'm sure everyone's just loving you now. Oh, and you might have all these people fooled, but I have your number, and you have no consistency. I'm gonna make sure you get _buried_ in Boston."

"Lo, come on!" Payson yelled at her incredulously.

Lauren spared her a brief look. "Save it," she said, heading for the door. But Payson wasn't having it. She marched over to Lauren before she could reach the door, and got right up in her face.

"No, you save it!" Payson snarled. "Emily didn't have a lucky day; she was better than you! And you know why? Because you keep wasting your time worrying about everything besides gymnastics. If you'd just put in the hours you needed, you wouldn't have dropped to fifth place. And don't kid yourself, Lo," she said, glaring at the other girl, her arms tightening protectively around her son. "It's obvious you had something to do with Marty going to Denver—he would never just leave us. Emily didn't blow this gym to pieces. You did! By taking away our coach. You're the reason we're left with no coach right before Nationals. That's on you." Payson stepped back from her, disgusted with the other girl. "Wow, Lo. Some friend you are, huh?"

Lauren had the decency to look guilty, but the expression was brief, and she was quick to adopt that familiar smug look of hers. "Not my problem anymore," she shrugged. Her "Good luck" as she left was mocking, and Payson suspected by the tightly fisted hands at her sides that Jordan was more than ready to follow Lauren and beat her to a pulp.

"At least I won't have to see that bitch on a daily basis anymore," Payson heard Jordan mutter before turning to look at the others in the room.

"So, what do we do now?" Kaylie questioned sceptically. But no one had any answers for her.

* * *

_3 July 2009_

By the time more than a week had passed, it was obvious that nobody still had any clue what to do. The gym was in total chaos; girls running around, people fiddling around with their cells, and it was all Payson could do not to scream her frustration. She didn't last long and pretty soon was reaming into Vince, one of the assistant coaches.

Rationally, she knew she was being unreasonable, and she did apologise to him at her parents' behest, but later, entering Kaylie's room with Alex on her hip, she was still frustrated and more than a little angry.

"Hey, where's Jordan?" she asked Kaylie, who looked up with a smile as they entered.

"Hey, she's in the bathroom," she answered. "Come here. Look, this is Marty when he won the silver." She was reading an old issue of some gymnastics magazine, the page she was on featuring a spread on Marty. "Wasn't he cute?"

Payson walked over to where Kaylie was lounging on her bed, sitting down at the edge with Alex in her lap. "He was amazing," she said simply as she saw the pictures.

"Who's that with the gold?"

Payson was about to answer when her son beat her to it. "Sasha, Sasha, Sasha," Alex blabbered happily, reaching for the magazine with eager little hands. Payson laughed at his actions, pulling him to her so he couldn't reach. "He's right. That's Sasha Belov. He was the only person to beat Marty." Her voice might've been more smug than it really should have been as she said this. But Payson was so, so mad at Marty right now, and besides, Sasha Belov was a gymnastics god (his accomplishments were many and great), she felt it was only right to brag—even if it technically wasn't within _her _right to do so.

"Yeah? Whatever happened to him?" Kaylie asked. And then she gave Alex an amused look. "And how does Alex recognise him?"

Payson felt her cheeks heat up slightly. She really didn't want to get into why her son could recognise Sasha Belov from just a picture, and chose to focus on the first question, forgoing the second one entirely. "I don't know. He kind of disappeared. Wait, how do you not know this? Sasha Belov is like the most famous guy in gymnastics. One of them, anyway."

Kaylie opened her mouth to respond, but Payson never got the chance to hear what she was going to say as Jordan burst into the room. She looked at them expectantly. "So, are we going to Denver or not?" she asked impatiently. "Or are you guys chickening out?"

Payson shook her head, getting up from the bed. "No way," she said. She was going to Denver like they had discussed earlier at the Rock, and she _was _going to talk to Marty. She needed to hear from him why he'd left. Logically, she knew the Tanners were the catalyst behind the move, but Marty had to have left for something more than a bigger paycheck.

"Okay then," Kaylie said, slipping on her jacket. "Let's go."

They had just reached the foyer of the large Cruz home when Ronnie noticed them leaving. She quickly pawned off Becca and Emily—who must have just arrived—on them, clearly eager to get them out of the house so the 'grownups' could _deal_ with the situation.

Payson sighed as her little sister tagged along eagerly, pleased to be included with what she considered to be the older, cooler girls. Becca had a serious case of hero worship on Kaylie, much to Payson's amusement.

"Look, we're not going to Java Rama and you guys can't come with us," Payson said firmly, looking at Emily apologetically. She didn't have anything against the girl, but this was something that didn't concern her. "Sorry, Emily."

It wasn't until Becca decided to be a brat and made them reveal where they were going that Emily insisted on coming along as well. "You guys are going to Denver? Then I'm coming too. I've got scholarship stuff that Marty _needs_ to take care of. It's important," she declared, motioning to a brief she'd gotten from her mother's car, waving it in the air.

Becca seized her opportunity. "If Emily's coming, then I'm coming too!"

Payson sighed again. "Becca," she groaned. "There's not enough room in the car. I have to bring Alex and his car seat takes an entire spot," she reminded her little sister.

Jordan nodded beside her. "Besides, if Emily needs to come to get her, whatever it was, signed, one of us needs to stay behind." They all looked pointedly at Becca.

"That's not fair!" Becca pouted. "Why do I have to stay, why not one of you? If I don't get to come, I'm telling Mom and Dad."

"Becca," Payson implored. "Please, don't mess this up for us. You have no idea how important this is. Please. I promise I'll owe you one."

Becca looked at them for a moment, and then, finally, she nodded. "Fine," she said grumpily, but then she quickly perked up. "But only if I get to take Alex to the park."

Payson frowned. On one hand, keeping Alex from being stuck in a car for what would be a total of almost two hours would be a very good thing, on the other hand... "You know I don't like you walking outside with Alex on your own. You're only twelve and—"

"Oh, come on, Pay!" Becca cut in. "It'll be fine, and I'll keep my cell with me at all times. Please," she begged, dragging out the 'please.' "It's just the park. It's right around the corner of the street!"

"Payson, just let her do it," Jordan said, but Payson shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't trust her little sister with Alex, Payson knew Becca would never hurt her nephew. But there was so many things that could go wrong, and Becca _was _only twelve years old. She studied her sister intently.

"You'll go to the park, only? No other places?" she questioned hesitantly.

Becca nodded eagerly. "The park only, and my cell on!" she assured.

"Fine," Payson gave in grudgingly. "But if anything happens, you get Mom and Dad immediately, and you call me."

Payson and Becca walked over to their parents' car and Payson handed Alex over to Becca before she opened the trunk of the car, removing the stroller stacked together in the back of the small space. After making sure Alex was properly dressed and settled in his stroller, and that Becca had control of everything she would need, Payson very, very hesitantly sank to her knees.

"Hey, Alex. Momma's gonna go away for a little while, okay? But you're gonna go to the park with Aunt Becca, so you be a good boy for her. Give me a kiss," she said, smiling as she leaned forward to peck her son when he obediently pursed his lips, giggling at her as Payson deliberately made a loud 'smack' sound.

Ten minutes later she had finally managed to tear herself away from her baby boy and was strapping on her seatbelt in Kaylie's car. "Finally," Jordan commented as they started driving. "You were taking forever!"

"Jordan! He's her son," Kaylie reminded her foster sister, and Jordan rolled her eyes.

"I know that," she defended. "And you know Alex is my boy, but if we want to get back before anybody starts to freak out..." Jordan trailed off.

Payson sighed. She knew Jordan was right. If their parents found out; they would be less than pleased. That didn't mean she wouldn't be worrying about her son and little sister the entire time, though. She only hoped nothing bad was going to happen.

As they headed towards Denver, Payson could feel Emily staring at her. She valiantly tried to ignore it, not really up for a conversation when she was so worried about her son, but after twenty-five minutes of stifling silence she couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" she barked out grumpily, regretting it almost immediately. She hadn't meant to sound so brash, but she tended to be somewhat standoffish when she was upset.

Emily looked away from her quickly. "Nothing" she mumbled.

Payson sighed. "No, come on. Obviously there's something on your mind."

The other girl turned back to look at her and Payson caught her eyes expectantly. "I just...I guess I was just wondering, about Alex, I mean. But you don't have to...it's not my place...and just...forget it. I'm out of line." The tension in the car skyrocketed as Emily's awkward speech registered. Payson could see Kaylie's hands tightening on the wheel, and Jordan had turned around in her seat to glare at Emily.

"You're right," Jordan spit out furiously. "It's not your place. In fact it's none of your business, so why don't you just shut the he—"

"Jordan," Payson interrupted firmly. "Please."

Jordan looked at her for a long moment. Then finally she gave a satisfied nod and turned back in her seat.

Payson looked back at Emily. The girl's shoulders were bunched up under her ears and she was obviously tense and uncomfortable. "Exactly what were you wondering about?" Payson questioned and watched as Emily's head shot up, her eyes wide as she stared, surprised, at Payson.

"Uh, just how you handle it all, I guess. I mean, I saw a picture of you walking out of the gym with Alex on your hip in this week's issue of People...I barely have time for anything besides gymnastics. How do you handle being a good mom and an elite gymnast at the same time, _with_ all the media attention?"

Payson frowned. "There was a picture of us in this week's People. What did the caption say?"

Emily blinked, confused, clearly thrown off by Payson's priority. "Eh, it was under celebrity sightings. Just something about Payson Keeler and son—there was some brief text about how you were currently training for Nationals."

Payson sighed wearily. "It must be after the result of the National tryouts last week. We had a horde of reporters on our front lawn the next day. Damn it. It's been awhile since they've put our picture in the press. I was hoping it would last longer."

"I actually saw that issue too," Kaylie spoke from the driver's seat. "I forgot to tell you, Pay. Sorry," she apologised, biting her lip guiltily.

"Don't worry about it, Kaylie," Payson shrugged. "It's probably gonna be a lot worse after Nationals."

"You say that as if you've already won, Pay. I'm not gonna go easy on your white ass just 'cause you're my best friend," Jordan said playfully, laughing as Payson stuck out her tongue in retaliation. "Oh, real mature."

Payson smiled at her before turning to look at Emily again. "Look, I get that you're curious. Everyone always is. But I've only known you for a week and I still don't really know anything about you. On the other hand, I'm betting you know all about my past," Payson said bitterly, watching as Emily nodded her head in agreement. "So here's all you get to know for now," Payson continued. "I love my son more than anything. He is my life. However, gymnastics are a big part of that life, and I am lucky enough to have a support system that let's me have both. I work _hard_, and I take things one day at a time. I guess it's not really handling it as it is doing what I need to do. And that's it; that's all you get to learn for now."

Emily swallowed hard. "Thanks. You didn't have to tell me that, and you're right; you don't know me, but I know _you. _Or at least your past, like you said. So I guess it's only fair that I share something about me," Emily said earnestly, and Payson looked at her curiously. "This scholarship stuff, it's really important. Not just because it lets me train at the Rock, but because the American Committee gives us a little bit of money each week. Money we _need._"

There was silence in the car while the other three girls mulled over this new information, and then, "So, are you guys like, poor?" Jordan asked bluntly, much to the horror of her foster sister who let out an outraged, "Jordan!"

"Hey, we're here," Payson cut in before the two girls could get into one of their lengthy discussions on each other's flaws—usually about Jordan's insensitivity and Kaylie's enabling ("I do not enable people!" "Are you kidding me? Hello, can you _say_ Lauren Tanner?").

"Finally," Emily murmured gratefully beside her.

* * *

Payson stared in disbelief at her former coach.

"You think they're better than us? Better than me?"

"Yes, I do."

If she hadn't been so angry, if she'd only been a little more calm, she would probably have noticed Marty's wince and the slightest moment of hesitation before he visibly steeled himself. But Payson was furious, and in her anger the only thing she could see was another man she had trusted not to hurt her, that had.

"I should have known," she choked out, fighting back the tears threatening to break free. "You're a man, of course you can't be trusted. All men do is betray." She shot him a look of pure loathing. "I don't even know why I came here. I don't need to see you _ever _again."

She stormed out of his office before her even got the chance to sound out her name and Marty closed his eyes, pained. He thought he would be protecting his girls by following Tanner's lead and move to Denver. He had freaked out, panicking at the thought of what his affair with Ronnie Cruz would do to the her family, to the Rock, and even his own career. It would hurt them, and he couldn't do that. Not to Kaylie and Jordan, and not to Ronnie. News of their affair _would _be a scandal; Ronnie was a former popstar, the wife of a famous baseball player. And Marty was an Olympic gold medalist, well respected in the gymnastics community. Add to that the factor of Payson Keeler's mere proximity and you had the recipe for national interest. News of the affair would have tainted the Rock as well, and it'd be bad publicity for everyone involved.

Marty had left Boulder to make sure no one got hurt, but in his haste to leave there were so many things he'd failed to consider. Like Payson Keeler.

He sighed regretfully as he hurried after the angry teen, following her back into the gym. She had the right to be furious with him. Marty had given her good cause for her anger and disappointment. Payson liked to portray herself as a strong, confident young woman—and that image wasn't constructed, she truly was that fierce—but behind it, emotionally, she was incredibly fragile. Had been broken before and was terrified of it happening again.

More than anything, betraying his hard-earned trust from Payson was his biggest regret in all of this. Marty was saddened and pissed off at Steve Tanner as he realised that their actions might literally be a personal setback for Payson. She had trusted Marty with her time, her body and her gymnastics, and even with her trust—something she only truly gave to her father now, and Marty had betrayed all of it. Had proven her right: Men can't be trusted.

When Payson stepped back into the gym she immediately headed over to where her friends were standing, and saw Kaylie in a verbal spar with Lauren Tanner.

"—that nobody's gonna find out about you and Carter," she heard Lauren say before Kaylie's answering, "And you're a backstabbing bitch!"

Payson stepped between them, grabbing her friend's arm, dragging her away from the evil that was Lauren Tanner. "Come on, Kaylie, these people are dead to us," she said quietly, glaring harshly at Lauren. "I hear that," Jordan muttered as they headed for the door.

Before they could leave though, Payson noticed the brief in Emily's hand and realised she had capitalised on Marty's time, giving the other girl no chance to deal with what she had admitted to be some important scholarship stuff. Payson quickly grabbed the brief from Emily, figuring it had been her fault for not giving Emily the opportunity to talk to Marty in the first place, and turned sharply on her heel, marching back to where her former coach stood, arms folded across his chest in the middle of the gym floor.

"One more thing," Payson told him. "Fix Emily's scholarship. Make it right." She pressed the brief into Marty's hands roughly. "She shouldn't have to go chasing after what you promised her."

Marty nodded. "I'll take care of it," he promised, watching her narrow her eyes at him before she turned to leave. She was silent as she left the gym with her friends, head held high and shoulders back. Her fighting stance. Payson was tough. She would pull through, and he had no doubt she would do brilliantly at Nationals in Boston. And even if she hated him now. Even if she would never trust him again, she had unknowingly given Marty the strength to do what he should have done from the beginning: Tell Steve Tanner to go to hell; Marty Walsh was no man's monkey.

Besides, if he really thought about everything he knew about Steve Tanner, Marty knew he would never have exposed the affair at all. Marty knew Steve to be a loving father despite being a jerk and an ass. He genuinely cared for children, and Marty didn't think he'd ever deliberately hurt a child. Releasing the incriminating photos of Marty and Ronnie's affair would only hurt Jordan and Kaylie, and Kaylie was Lauren's best friend. Tanner wouldn't have done it. He'd been bluffing, and Marty had been a fool not to realise. He'd been had, and he'd been had good. But no more. It was over. He was done.

Marty knew there would be no going back to the Rock. He wouldn't be welcome there anymore. He would have to settle for Denver and he would let Lauren keep training at the gym if she worked hard like every other girl. But there'd be no more special treatment and he was done working from underneath Steve Tanner's thumb.

Looking over to where a visibly upset Lauren was being comforted by her dad, Marty smiled. It was time he had a little talk with Mr. Tanner.

* * *

Steve groaned in frustration.

He should have known the status quo couldn't last. Why did he keep letting himself getting roped into doing these crazy things? He sighed. The answer was simple. Because he loved his daughter and he wanted her to be happy.

Still, Steve Tanner was no fool, and he did realise that his Lauren was not the most well adjusted teenager in the world. She'd always been somewhat demanding and spoilt. But it was Steve's fault. He just couldn't bring himself to say 'no' to her. She was all he had left.

And so here he was, pouring over his computer, trying to locate the man he needed.

They had trained at Denver for a week now, but Steve could see Lauren was having difficulties fitting in, and his daughter had mentioned several times how much she missed her friends, especially Kaylie. Then, after the Rock girls had showed up in Denver, Lauren had finally admitted that she was unhappy, that she missed her friends back in Boulder and wanted to go back to the Rock. Steve knew that wasn't going to happen unless they could find something to bargain with. His money wasn't going to cut it this time.

But Steve already knew what their ticket inn would be. Sasha Belov. The man himself.

There was no way they'd be able to turn down the opportunity to work with the best gymnastics coach in the world.

Now, if only Steve could figure out where the hell the man had disappeared off to. He knew he was in the States somewhere, but the exact location was proving difficult to find. But Steve was nothing if not tenacious, and a few hours later Steve had booked himself the first flight out of Denver to California, his final destination: Cambria, home of Sasha Belov.

Sasha Belov would make everything better. Steve was certain of it. And if there was one man who could get his little girl to the Olympics, it would be him. After all, Belov had done it before. And not only had those girls medaled; they had won gold.

Steve wanted that for Lauren. He knew she was good enough for it.

But, he also knew it was going to be difficult. He had seen what Emily Kmetko could do at the National Tryouts, and it was obvious the girl had talent. She'd even managed to beaten out his Lauren for the forth spot in the roster. And that right there was the problem. After Payson Keeler's comeback performance, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was the girl to beat, and that meant that currently there were four potential Olympic competitors at the Rock. When Lauren was back, it would be five.

The U.S. National team consisted of only five spots.

The odds of all the girls coming from the Rock...Well, they were less than ideal. There was Kelly Parker to consider as well, the current number one in the country. And Steve knew there were a couple of girls from the junior elites who would be eligible to compete by the 2012 Olympics. Girls like Wendy Capshaw and Colleen Evans could be potential trouble.

Steve reeled himself in. He couldn't waste his time thinking about that just yet. First, he had to make sure he got to Sasha Belov. It was of paramount importance that Steve convinced him to take the coaching position at the Rock. He supposed he would settle for him coming to Denver if necessary. Kicking Marty out wouldn't be too hard, especially now that the man had decided he was done with Steve. But Lauren wanted the Rock, so...

Steve nodded, satisfied.

He would get Sasha Belov, and they'd all be back at the Rock at their earliest convenience.

Yes, he thought. It would all go according to plan.

**End of Chapter One**

* * *

**A/N: I've been stalking the MIoBI ff side for days now, and as a result this plot popped into my head and refused to go away until I started writing. Anyway, this is the result. I've no idea how long my interest will hold, but for now I'm writing so...enjoy, I guess.**


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